


By Proxy

by ladyshadowdrake



Series: Bittersweet [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, M/M, Plot Propelling Smut, Steve before and after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/pseuds/ladyshadowdrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard looked at Steve like Steve looked at a blank page, seeing a thousand shapes and lines, and depths of shade where others saw only a flat plane of white.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Proxy

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on Tumblr: http://lightshadowverisimilitude.tumblr.com/

**By Proxy**

 

The chair felt immense. Or more to the point, Steve felt very small. He was accustomed to the feeling, of a chair meant for an adult making him feel like a child, but he hadn’t let it impact him so hard since he turned twenty-one and Bucky took him out to a bar for the first time. Bucky had to argue with the bartender for twenty minutes to serve Steve, while Steve sat in a chair that was two sizes too big and felt like a bug under the microscope of every patron. Steve was all for just leaving and celebrating somewhere in private, but Bucky was adamant. It wasn’t like they’d never drank before, but it was the first time Steve could legally drink in public, and Bucky wanted to make that special. The bartender’s eyes were like a living thing crawling over Steve’s skin, his lip curled, expression clearly asking _do you think I’m stupid?_ Prohibition had only been lifted for six years at that point, and there was a curious mix of too-much and too-cautious. People drinking in excess because they could do it out in public, but less happy about it because they could do it out in public. Bartenders watched carefully for cops trying to trap them serving minors in the wake of Prohibition falling apart. Bucky looked like he could be a cop with his slicked-back hair and easy grace. Steve looked like he could be twelve, so together they probably screamed _sting operation_.

Steve finally did get his drink and was miserable with it. It was cheap stuff, tasted cheap, made his throat burn and his blood feel hot. He drank it too fast just to get it over with, and when he stood to tell Bucky _Alright, there I’ve had a drink, let’s go_ , he nearly fell over. It didn’t go far to convince the bartender that he wasn’t actually twelve. Bucky picked him up and sat him back in the chair like he _was_ twelve, and had him nurse a glass of water for another twenty minutes. The whole time, Steve kept his eyes down and just felt how big the chair was, and how small it made him.

Sitting next to Howard Stark was a lot like that. The man reminded him of Bucky in some ways – bigger than life, the same dark charms, the same confidence that boosted his natural good looks right into the stratosphere. Howard Stark was a man who could have anything he wanted with the crook of his little finger, and he knew it. He was brilliant, had even more money than imagination (and that was saying something because Steve didn’t think he’d ever met someone with so much imagination), and when he looked at Steve, it was like he was seeing someone else. He looked at Steve like Steve looked at a blank page, seeing a thousand shapes, and lines, and depths of shade where others saw only a flat plane of white. It made him feel small, and vulnerable, and confused.

“How are you feeling today?” Howard asked with a throwaway smile, like he just had a packet of them in his pocket, so many of them that he could give them away for free, throw them out by the handful.

“Good, I guess,” Steve answered. He made himself look at Howard because that’s what he did. He might be small and weak, but he never looked at another man’s shoes. It built strong neck muscles.

“Great,” Howard responded, excited, bubbling over with energy.

Howard wasn’t a medical doctor and readily admitted that the insides of people were far too squishy and messy to be of any interest to him, but he always asked Steve how he was feeling like it made some kind of difference. Two weeks before, Steve was struggling in the mud with recruits that were taller, and stronger, and didn’t wheeze when they ran more than three yards. And then he jumped on a grenade, a stupid dummy grenade, and he was whisked away to play lab rat. He couldn’t really complain about that – it’s not like he _enjoyed_ making a fool of himself in the mud, or the vicious teasing in the barracks at night, or the sergeant looking at him like he was a cockroach that wouldn’t die. And he _had_ agreed, had listened quietly to Dr. Erskine tell him that this miracle serum would amplify everything about him, that it would make him a stronger man. Or kill him. One of the two. He wouldn’t have agreed at all, except that Dr. Erskine looked him straight in the eye without any condescension, or the uneasiness that many men felt when they looked down at him, and asked _will you help me make the world a better place?_

“Nervous?” Howard asked him. He didn’t look up from the electrical panel he was tinkering with. Steve watched his hands – he had artistic hands, fine boned, and sensitive, and agile.

“Yes,” Steve answered honestly. Howard glanced at him and Steve gave him a weak smile. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I suppose. Excited?” His eyes twinkled at Steve, just for Steve, a private twinkle. Steve liked that about Howard – he was almost always moving a hundred miles a minute, doing one thing while talking about something else, and probably thinking about a third, but sometimes he stopped and focused the entirety of his attention on something. Most of the time it was a _something_ , a fiddly bit of engineering that fascinated Steve but that he would probably never understand. But sometimes, just for a moment, he would turn all of his attention on Steve and it was like basking naked in the summer sunshine.

Steve swallowed. “I’m not sure.” He did his best to answer Howard’s questions honestly. It was sometimes a struggle to answer the medical questions honestly, because he’d gotten so good at lying about when he was in pain, or his chest felt tight, or his joints ached. “To be honest, I don’t really understand any of this.” Steve gestured to all the components spread out around him.

Howard insisted on Steve sitting next to him most of the day, claimed it was more convenient to have him nearby if he needed measurements, or to fit this part or that part. Sometimes he did need measurements, and twice he had locked metal sleeves over Steve’s arms, but mostly Steve just sat there and watched him work.

“It’s hard to be excited when I don’t really know what this is going to do. And it looks like a Martian’s torture room,” Steve confessed. Howard turned a startled look on him and Steve felt himself sinking further into the chair, feeling even smaller. He hated that, feeling for a moment like a whipped dog. Steve consciously forced himself to sit upright and return Howard’s gaze.

Howard set the soldering tool down and fetched a chair. He dropped it across from Steve and sprawled into it. His slumped posture brought them to eye level without him having to lean forward like he was talking to a child.

“What do you want to know?”

Startled, Steve just stared at him for several seconds. “I don’t… I don’t even know where to start. How is this going to work exactly? What are these things for?”

“Well, I don’t know what the end result will be. They told you that it’s far from a sure thing, right? We can’t guarantee that you’re going to come out of this even alive, let alone that you’ll be any different.”

“Death doesn’t scare me,” Steve told him easily. He didn’t have to puff his chest out and put on fake bravado for that. Death didn’t scare him, because he and Death were old friends. Steve had stopped keeping track of the number of times he stood on Death’s porch for a chat. He’d had to come to terms with it or be driven mad by it. Steve couldn’t abide bullies, not even when the bully was his own body.

“I believe you,” Howard said thoughtfully. He slapped both of his thighs and jumped up. “Come with me. We’ll make an engineer out of you by the end of this, you just wait and see.”

That was the last time that Steve sat passively at Howard’s side and watched him work on incomprehensible bits of technology that looked like they would be more at home on the set of a sci-fi flick.

~*~

The first time Howard touched him, it seemed so much like an innocent accident that Steve thought nothing of it. That wasn’t wholly true - he did think of it later, lying in his bunk and stroking his fingers over the inside of his wrist, remembering Howard’s fingertips ghosting over his skin when taking the tool from him. It just didn’t seem any different of a touch than Bucky’s big hand on his shoulder.

The touches came more frequently after that. Casual still, casual enough that the slightest sign of suspicion from an uninterested man would put Howard off without any consequences. Casual enough that if Steve made a thing of it, Howard could look puzzled and angry by the suggestion and people would believe him. Steve let it go on for days, the barely-there brush of Howard’s arm when he moved a little too close to Steve to reach for this or that, the gentle squeeze on the shoulder when Steve left for the night, the nudge of Howard’s knee against his where they sat hunched over a workbench.

When Steve touched Howard for the first time, he didn’t go for subtlety. Steve could never be the kind of man who did subtle or cautious; if he tried to live that way, he would never leave his bedroom. So when Howard ran an arm against Steve’s to pick up his coffee cup, Steve reached out and grabbed his wrist.

Howard looked at him sharply, eyes filled with cautious examination, a look that men of their persuasion had to perfect. Quickly size up the other guy, figure out if he’s about to throw a punch, or lean up for a kiss. Steve didn’t lean up for a kiss, but he dragged his thumb down the inside of Howard’s wrist in a very deliberate way, met his eyes without fear, and let go. Howard stayed where he was for a moment, and Steve handed him the coffee cup.

Remembering where they were, Howard took it with a smile and retreated. Steve watched him go, feeling, maybe for the first time, a sense of power. Howard, who could wink at a tree and have the branches hand him an apple, approached Steve like a nervous cat. Steve smiled at the uncommon feeling of being more in control than someone else, and didn’t feel like the chair was going to swallow him up.

~*~

They worked late into the evening the night before the Procedure. Sometime over the last three weeks, the Procedure had gained capital letters in his head, a subtle emphasis that made his heart stutter whenever it came up. The lab cleared slowly around them, leaving Steve and Howard alone to finish the final touches on the equipment. Really, Steve was just polishing, Howard, he was pretty sure, was making up busy work for himself. It was just the detail work, what they were doing at Lehigh. Most of the equipment had already gone ahead to the secret lab that was too secret for the lab rat to know about. Howard had been back and forth for days, setting up the delicate machinery. He probably didn’t need to be at Lehigh at all, probably should have gone on with the major components the week before. Steve wanted to hope that he stayed because of _Steve._ That usually only worked in the partial darkness of the barracks. In the light of day, watching Howard move, it was hard to believe that someone like Howard would stay anywhere for someone like him.

“Procedure tomorrow,” Howard said, collapsing into the chair next to Steve. He grabbed the armrests and shimmied it around until he faced Steve with his usual slouch. “Are you ready?”

Steve laughed. “It’s not like I have to do anything.”

“You have to lie down inside a metal box that could be your coffin as easy as your cocoon,” Howard pointed out with his typical lack of anything that resembled soft edges or sugar coating.

“Feel free to tie me down if I struggle,” Steve told him with a smile that stretched wide and nervous across his face. It wasn’t much of a joke, because he _would_ be tied down, thick metal paddles filled with needles pushing into every major muscle group they could reasonably get access to. Howard was quiet for a second and Steve didn’t look at him for fear that he would do something stupid in this open space where no one drew breath but the two of them. So he was surprised when the metal plate disappeared out of his grip and Howard’s hands framed his face. Howard’s lips were warm and dry against his, and the tickle of his mustache felt nothing at all like the one brief kiss he shared with Bucky when he was thirteen, because Bucky was his best friend and should be the first.

Steve made a noise that would have been embarrassing except that Howard made a noise just like it, breathy and needy. Howard’s tongue invaded his mouth, and Steve didn’t know what to do with that except to stroke the underside of it with his own tongue, suck on it, push back into Howard’s mouth like he was getting back up from a knockdown in an ally.

Howard broke away from him with a gasp of air, eyes wild and dark. “Come to my quarters tonight. Please.”

Steve blushed and nodded because his tongue felt foreign in his mouth, like it didn’t belong anymore after engaging in battle on a distant front. “When?”

“Give me 10 minutes’ head start.” Howard locked eyes with him. “Be careful,” he said meaningfully.

Steve nodded, not needing the warning but knowing it needed to be spoken. If he was found sneaking into Howard Stark’s quarters in the middle of the night (or, worse, sneaking out of them in the morning), the very best he could hope for would be an end to his status as guinea pig. At worst, it could mean being cashiered out of the Army in disgrace, maybe even being sent to a sanitarium, or a military prison. And that was just the above-board options. Steve didn’t want to think about the consequences if the authority figures just left him the barracks and turned around.

“You don’t have to,” Howard told him softly. He stroked Steve’s hair back with gentle fingers. “If it’s too much of a risk. I _do_ understand.”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve never run away from a thing, Mr. Stark. I’m not about to now. Not from this.”

Howard laughed softly, a low, throaty sound, a private sound that was wholly unlike the raucous laughter of the daytime. “Call me Howard,” he suggested. He swooped in to kiss Steve again, and pulled away just as quickly. “Ten minutes.”

Steve nodded numbly and picked up the metal plate, because he needed something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied. The minutes still ticked by like decades.

~*~

If it weren’t for the very real possibility of being caught, Steve would have frozen in front of Howard’s door. Maybe he would have stayed out there all night, staring wide-eyed at the simple wooden portal. He fiddled with the conductor clutched in one hand. He’d grabbed it as an excuse in case someone stopped him and asked what he thought he was doing on the wrong side of the camp. Steve had rehearsed what he would say so thoroughly that he almost said it to Howard when the door opened. _I think this is broken and I’m pretty sure we need it for tomorrow, right?_

Howard, wrapped up in a dressing robe, didn’t give him the chance for that kind of embarrassment. He glanced out to make sure the hall was empty, and then grabbed Steve by his tie and yanked him into the room. Howard closed the door with exaggerated care, snatched the conductor out of Steve’s hands and threw it negligently to his desk. Steve opened his mouth to say something stupid, and Howard stole the sounds right off his tongue. Steve took a startled breath, pulling the air out of Howard’s lungs, and that only made the older man laugh against him. Howard dragged his mouth over Steve’s jaw, brought his hands up to either side of Steve’s neck and used his grip to tilt Steve’s head. He mouthed at Steve’s neck, a certain tension in him broadcasting how he wanted to sink his teeth in, but was still coherent enough to know he couldn’t leave marks.

Unsure of what to do with his hands, Steve just held onto Howard’s arms and sank into the novel sensation of a mouth against his skin, the tickle of Howard’s beard, the wet slide of his tongue. Bucky hadn’t kissed him like this – Bucky said that Steve’s first kiss should be from someone who loved him, and set their lips together like it was normal. It lasted only a second and then they went outside to play cowboys and Indians and never mentioned it again. This was… words slipped out of Steve’s mind before he could catch any of them, blotted out by the fire blossoming in his belly.

Howard finally pulled away and backed up just enough that Steve could see the mattress had been pulled off the bed and laid out in the meager floor space. It was a thick spring mattress, a luxury for a high profile civilian guest that the barracks didn’t warrant. Howard led him over to it with his lips quirked in a confident smirk.

“Bedframe squeaks,” he explained, his voice a low almost-whisper, his lips attractively swollen and moist in the soft light of a single bedside lamp. Steve stood by the mattress, suddenly at a loss. He knew what Howard wanted, and even knew the logistics of what Howard wanted, but somehow he couldn’t make himself just strip and get on his knees. A part of him wanted to do that, imagined that he could strip with a confident roll of his body, crawl onto the mattress like a cat, and look up at Howard over one shoulder, beckoning with a look.

The mere thought made him blush. Howard might have sensed his indecision. He wrapped gentle arms around Steve, leaning forward to put his chin on Steve’s shoulder and mouth at his neck. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said, but his lips wrapped around Steve’s earlobe to draw it into the warmth of his mouth.

“I’m not a delicate flower,” Steve told him, frowning, annoyance prickling at his throat. “Or a blushing bride.”

“You _are_ blushing,” Howard reminded him. His tone was exactly right, just the right amount of amusement and warmth to take out any sting. Steve relaxed into Howard all at once, arching back against him to give the taller man access to his throat.

“I want you,” Steve told him in a whisper, not because he meant to whisper, but because his throat was closing up with the rush of heat boiling out of him. It was nothing less than the truth. He’d recognized Howard’s beauty the same way he recognized any beautiful man – appreciatively, understanding of his unattainability. Howard’s fingers working his tie loose felt like Michelangelo’s David stepping off the pedestal.

Howard’s artistic hands opened the buttons on his uniform shirt and yanked it out of the way. Steve pulled his white undershirt out of his pants, but Howard didn’t bother to wait for him to take it off. He dug his hands underneath it, agile fingers working over Steve’s thin hips and prominent ribs. Steve expected to feel hesitancy. He knew the sight of himself, he knew what he looked like compared to someone big and strong like Howard, how thin and fragile he must feel beneath Howard’s hands. There was no hesitancy, no caution, only the same skillful exploration that Steve had witnessed from the sidelines as Howard examined a piece of technology. Maybe that shouldn’t have felt so amazing, but Steve knew what Howard’s face looked like during those moments, and the idea that it was directed at him made him feel dizzy. He turned into Howard’s arms and took the initiative, yanking the tie loose on Howard’s robe. The soft red and black velvet fell open and Steve caught his breath. Howard was gloriously, unabashedly naked, warm and beautiful in the lamplight.

“Your eyes on me…” Howard moaned, grabbing Steve by the neck once again and dragging him up into a kiss. “You make me feel like a god.”

“Don’t blaspheme,” Steve said by reflex, and then, just to negate it and because his tongue did foolish things when he wasn’t watching it, he said, “You look like a god.”

Howard barked out a surprised laugh and yanked Steve’s shirt over his head. He crushed their mouths together as soon as the cloth was out of the way and let his robe drop from his shoulders, leaving their clothes to mingle on the floor as he fumbled with Steve’s belt.

“I want,” Steve started, feeling needy, and shy, and frustrated with feeling either of those things. He shivered faintly in the chilly air and stepped out of his pants and shoes as Howard got them around his feet. “I want you… inside of me. The first,” he mumbled into Howard’s collarbone. Howard went still and Steve cursed himself for admitting to his inexperience. He wondered how quickly he could get redressed, if Howard would even let him get dressed.

Howard cussed, low and earnestly. Steve backed away, but didn’t get far. Howard caught his wrists and pulled him back against his body. “You are going to be the death of me.” He wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him tight to his body. The press of Howard’s hard cock against his sent an electric shock up his body. Howard’s lips returned to his throat and they folded down to the mattress, Howard pressing against him in something like desperation.

“Fuck, I wish I could,” he hissed against Steve’s neck. “You have a medical exam tomorrow. They can’t… if they saw…”

Steve did cuss then, a rare swearword, heartfelt and welcome on his tongue. He shifted in restless frustration, arching up into Howard’s body, the tension in his limbs making him shake with want. Howard kissed him again; he had lips that were built for kissing, soft and supple, but demanding. Steve pushed into the kiss and thought he could almost come off of that sensation alone. He made an irritated noise as Howard pulled away from him, leaving him panting and shifting on the mattress.

“Steve.” Howard’s kiss roughened lips curled into a mischievous smile. “ _I_ don’t have a medical exam tomorrow.”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to feel so immediately flushed with heat and frozen in shock. “You want… me to-?”

With the same exuberant excitement he showed in the lab, Howard levered himself off the mattress and back to his discarded robe. Steve propped himself up on his elbows to watch the engineer move, overcome with awe and a smoldering sense of anticipation. Howard pulled a bottle of mineral oil out of one of the pockets and returned to the mattress. He dropped smoothly to his knees and crawled over Steve’s body to lay next to him. Forward in a way that still startled Steve, even laying naked next to him, Howard reached over and squeezed Steve’s stiff cock in a strong hand.

“You are curved perfectly,” Howard said in a voice that decent people used in church. Steve burned with arousal and thrust up into the steady roll of Howard’s hand. “Will you fuck me with this beautiful dick?” Howard asked with a secret smile sitting crooked on his swollen lips.

For a moment, Steve couldn’t respond. His entire focus narrowed down to the tight channel of warmth. Still propped on his elbows, he watched the familiar head of his erection push through the ring of Howard’s fingers and disappear again. He licked his lips, turned his head to catch Howard staring at him in something Steve didn’t understand, the engineer’s expression caught somewhere between fondness and rapture.

“Please?” Howard prompted.

Steve nodded shakily, but he didn’t move until Howard pulled his hand away. Swallowing hard to moisten his throat and drawing in a breath to contain the hungry surge of desire, Steve rolled onto his knees. Howard moved with enviable flexibility, drawing one leg straight up and down to trap Steve between his thighs.

“I’m not sure…” Steve confessed. He darted a look up to Howard’s face. “I might do it wrong.”

Howard laughed, but it was a sound full of warm amusement and not a note of ridicule. “You can’t do it wrong.”

Steve smiled at him, but he was pretty damn sure it was possible to do this wrong. He quirked an eyebrow at Howard, who only grinned back.

“Let me show you.” He took Steve’s hand and coated two fingers in the thick oil. Keeping a firm grip on his wrist, Howard directed Steve’s fingers to the tight pucker of his entrance. Steve stared, entranced, hardly moving, as Howard dragged the tips of Steve’s fingers over it, eyes going glassy. He met Steve’s gaze and winked. “I think you can figure it out from there.”

Steve pressed an experimental finger against the muscle and hesitated as Howard’s body tensed against the intrusion. His eyes flickered up to Howard’s face only to find him watching intently. Howard’s gaze turned the summer sunbathing feeling into a full sunburn, and Steve knew he was red with it down to his chest. Steve swallowed hard and pushed the tip of his middle finger forward. The muscle resisted, but Howard gave no sign of discomfort. He wrapped his hands under his knees and pulled them to his chest to give Steve more room. It was the right leverage and Steve’s finger pushed slowly into the clinging warmth of Howard’s body.

Howard made a soft keening noise and Steve froze, darting a quick look up to gauge Howard’s expression. “Am I hurting you?”

Not bothering to respond, Howard released one of his knees and reached down to take Steve’s wrist again. He pulled Steve’s hand into his body, his breath coming out in a slow shudder, until Steve’s knuckles rested against the curve of his ass.

“There… just, curl your finger and- God, yes, that.” Howard’s entire body jerked, squeezing Steve’s finger so tightly it momentarily cut off the blood flow. Steve whimpered as circulation returned to the digit, the sensation somehow translating to his entire body. He found the spot again, brushing over it just for the wonder of Howard’s muscles rippling in reaction.

“Another. Give me another,” Howard babbled softly, curling up to give Steve a pleading look. Steve frowned back at him in worry. Howard’s body was still tight around the one finger, but he wasn’t the one with the experience and he had to trust that Howard knew his own limits. He pulled back slowly, retrieved the bottle of oil and made a mess of pouring it half onto his hand and half all over Howard’s balls and the sensitive space behind them. If the way his hips jerked was any indication, Howard heartily approved of the mess. Steve worked the second finger in slowly, waiting for Howard’s body to accept the intrusion, and probably doing it entirely wrong, but Howard’s face was such a study in lust that he didn’t open his mouth to ask.

Howard’s eyes drifted closed and Steve twisted his hand to find a more comfortable fit. He took the opportunity to examine Howard for the first time, following the lines of dark hair where it covered his chest and stomach, the ripple and twitch of his muscles from his broad chest tapering down a thin waist.

“If you keep spacing off like that,” Howard told him breathlessly, “I’m going to think you’re bored.”

Steve glanced up to see the man’s eyes open once more, eyebrows drawn into such a tight line that Steve would have thought he was worried had he been wearing clothing. “I’m memorizing you,” Steve confessed. He twisted his fingers to find that place again, and kept stroking it even though the muscles in his forearm started to burn. Howard sucked in a breath and his back curled up while his head went back. Steve watched him in awe, feeling powerful there between Howard’s thighs, knowing that the slightest twitch of his finger could bring out such a strong reaction.

“I need… Steve, more – just… please,” Howard begged, rocking restlessly into Steve’s hand.

“Are you-?”

“Yes. Just. Yes. Please.” He turned bright eyes on Steve, his face flushed attractively, lips parted. Steve couldn’t have said no to anything he asked just then.

Fumbling, Steve scooped up the bottle and made another mess, getting oil all over the mattress and not caring as he poured it over himself. He kept the fingers of his left hand moving, trying to maintain a rhythm, but failing miserably. Howard tried to help with equally erratic shifts and thrusts of his hips which just got them even more off synch. Steve would have laughed, except the first swipe of his hand over his slickened dick nearly set him off. He stilled for a second, eyes closed, breathing noisily, and then gently withdrew his fingers.

Pressing into Howard’s body was beyond anything he could name. Steve let his head fall forward to touch chin to chest, while below him, Howard released a breath that sounded more like a prayer. Steve brushed that magical spot and Howard tightened around him, body wracked with a spasm.

“Knew you would be… curved perfectly,” Howard told him breathlessly, lips jerked up in that cocky rake’s smirk. Steve gave him a shaky smile in return and finally seated himself flush against Howard’s hips.

“You feel amazing,” Steve praised, forcing the tense muscles in his shoulders and back to relax. He settled his weight more comfortably on his knees and Howard released his legs to wrap them loosely around Steve’s hips.

“I’d almost forgotten what this feels like,” Howard confessed on a breath. He rolled his hips in a smooth circle and Steve clutched at his legs to still him, still struggling for control.

“How long?” Steve asked for no reason other than it would have bothered him later, and he was too preoccupied with not exploding then and there to mind his words.

Howard chuckled. “Eight years, maybe? Nine.” He flexed his impressive legs to drag Steve up to him. Howard claimed a languid kiss while his muscles fluttered and squeezed around Steve’s length. Steve began to move finally, less because he really had better control, and more because he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t. Howard broke away from his lips, but they stayed curled into that tight embrace, breath mingling, the heat from their combined efforts warming the air between them.

“Not going to last,” Steve warned tightly.

“Same boat.” Howard wedged a hand between their bodies and took a firm hold of himself. Steve concentrated on the slide of Howard’s arm where it moved against his stomach, the flex of muscles against and around him. He memorized Howard by the scent of his tobacco – slightly sweet, with something like citrus beneath- and the lingering scent of engine oil, metal, and clean sweat. Their conversation fell away into the simplest communication, the oldest communication, Howard’s body singing to him when he moved just right, his hands whispering _here, and here_ , the curve of his spine and the tremble in his legs saying _almost_.

Steve leaned forward and buried his face against Howard’s neck as the blood left his fingers and toes, leaving them cold and tingling. He struggled to stay quiet and was faintly aware of Howard biting into his free arm to muffle his enthusiastic moaning.

A slow ripple of tension flowed down Howard’s body and he went still all at once, making almost-panicky sounds into the flesh of his forearm. Steve listened to that primal sound and followed it to its natural conclusion, bracing himself on the mattress to thrust as hard and fast as he could into Howard’s shuddering body. The last of Howard’s aftershock dragged a white-hot flash of orgasm out of Steve, and his arms gave out the very second the tension dispersed. Howard caught him easily, chest trembling from a combination of unsteady breathing and pure joy.

“Perfect,” he praised again, mouth moving against Steve’s cheekbone.

~*~

Howard moved just enough to retrieve his robe and spread it over them like a blanket. Steve rolled to his side and sighed in pleasure when Howard fit his body to the curve of Steve’s spine. Howard ran soft kisses over the back of Steve’s neck, bit very lightly into Steve’s shoulder, careful not to leave marks that would give them away. Steve almost asked him to, just for the satisfaction of watching the nurses trade looks and wonder as they completed his physical. But only almost.

“If I stay much longer, I’ll fall asleep,” Steve mumbled.

“Can’t have that,” Howard agreed, but there was a gratifying note of disappointment in his voice. “Thank you, for tonight.”

Steve snorted. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. I doubt you’d be without a… a date tonight, if you didn’t want to be.”

Howard’s mouth paused over the curve of Steve’s shoulder, and then lowered to press an open-mouthed kiss to it. He drew a hand up and ran his fingertips over Steve’s skin. “Maybe not,” he said in an oddly closed voice. “But it wouldn’t have been you, and that would have been a shame.”

“Got a thing for men who look like fourteen year-olds?”

Howard’s hand tightened on Steve’s shoulder. He pulled him roughly onto his back. “Don’t do that,” he said, angry. Steve had seen a lot of men angry. He was good at getting men angry, getting them ready to throw a punch. He could even get Bucky to that place sometimes. Howard was maybe the first man he’d gotten so angry so quickly without fearing that a fist would be lashing out in a moment. “Don’t make this cheap. Don’t make me into such an asshole.”

Steve blinked. “I wasn’t.”

“Would you like to imply again that I’ve got a thing for being fucked by little boys?” Howard asked, voice unexpectedly icy.

Steve’s heart smacked hard against his ribcage like it was punishing him. He swallowed hard. “Damn. I kind of did, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I just…” He struggled to find the words with Howard staring down at him with a pinched look of anger and hurt. “Look at you. You could have anyone. Anything. And me?” The laugh startled him and Steve covered his face for a moment until he could get his lips under control. “I haven’t gained an inch in any direction since I was fourteen. And I was small for a fourteen year-old.”

Howard’s expression melted, and the hand still squeezing Steve’s shoulder relaxed slowly. “You’re perfect.”

“Don’t patronize me-“

“Shut the hell up, would you?” Howard helped him by putting a hand over his mouth. “You’re a shitty artist if you can’t see that you are perfectly proportioned. Well, I’m not a shitty engineer. I can see it. You are absolutely symmetrical, proportioned exactly right, everywhere except…” His hand drifted down Steve’s body and he cupped his still tender cock. “Here.” Howard grinned when Steve jumped. “You’re a little big there, and curved just to the left.”

Heat flushed up Steve’s neck and made his eyes burn. He was grateful for Howard’s hand over his mouth, or he would have said something really stupid, or maybe just gaped like a landed fish.

“And none of it even matters, because you have got a mind on you that gets me excited like I haven’t been in years. I spend so much time with sycophants and sceptics, every one of them either tripping over themselves to say, ‘yes, yes, Mr. Stark, of course’ or telling me that what I aim to do is impossible. You… are possibly the most non-judgmental man I’ve ever met, you have a mind that learns fast and willingly, eyes that are always open, and the imagination to see that there is no such thing as impossible. Well, except when you’re looking in the mirror, apparently.” Howard gave him a dry look. “Because you’re beautiful, too.”

Steve’s lungs burned. He struggled to draw in air, suddenly feeling too big for his skin, sensitive everywhere. Other than his mother, the only person who ever thought he was anything was Bucky. And even Bucky never told him that his body was one of those ‘great characteristics’ that some dame was going to see some day and fall head over heels for. Steve closed his eyes and tried to control the shaking in his limbs.

“Hey,” Howard soothed, moving his hand away from Steve’s mouth and cupping the side of his face instead. Steve unthinkingly nuzzled against his palm. “Don’t hide from me.”

Peeling his eyes open, Steve looked up at his friend, his first lover. Howard’s charming face was split with a tender smile that still twisted up just a little more on the right. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say back to that,” Steve confessed.

“Say, ‘sorry, Howard, and I’ll never think less of myself ever again,’ for starters.”

Steve laughed helplessly, but he obligingly repeated the phrase.

“And how about, ‘I’ll never again question you when you call me beautiful,’ too.”

“Not going to happen,” Steve told him, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He reached up and set his hand on Howard’s cheek, tracing a thumb over his cheekbone. “But I do need to go. Or I really will just stay here.”

Howard flopped onto his back with a dramatic sigh, throwing one arm over his eyes. “Fine. Use me and then just run off. I see what kind of man you are, Steven Rogers.” He peeked under his elbow to make sure Steve was watching him and then twisted away, not quite managing to hide the smile.

Steve levered himself up and kissed Howard’s smiling lips. “I’d stay if I could.”

“I know. But you better get dressed and get moving, or I might _make_ you stay.” He lifted his arm away finally and Steve laughed, enjoying the playful side of Howard Stark, who was known more for his mischievousness and playboy flippancy, but not this, this honest and simple openness. Steve kissed him again, taking advantage of his leverage to slip his tongue into Howard’s mouth for a leisurely exploration before he pulled away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Pushing himself out of bed, Steve reached for his underwear. “You’re the guy pushing the button, so I sure hope not.”

Later, sitting on a cot across from Dr. Erskine, Steve asked _why me_. He remembered Howard’s ire and his gentle smile as he listened to Erskine’s tale. The barracks was cleared out of everyone by the two of them, the recruits crowded into another barracks for the night so Steve could sleep uninterrupted, safe with a guard at the door. He didn’t understand why they hadn’t just moved him into a single room – perhaps the empty one next to Howard – but far be it for him to question the decisions of the brass. He didn’t mind having the darkness to himself that night, though he still didn’t sleep.

~*~

Margaret, Call-Me-Margaret-at-Your-Own-Risk, You-May-Call-Me-Ma’am, Carter was the most beautiful, terrifying woman he’d ever met. Steve had never learned to be suave with women the way Bucky was, moving easily into their space and catching their attention with a smile. He’d never even really learned to talk to women, because they rarely stayed around long enough to have an actual conversation. He had learned to simply treat a woman like a person – look at them in the eyes, be honest, and talk to every single one of them like they were his mother. Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. May I help you with that, ma’am? He held open doors, carried bags, and stood when one of them left or entered a room.

Being in a car with Peggy Carter was a little like that one time he’d walked in on Bucky’s mom naked. He babbled, because there wasn’t anywhere for him to run, and tried to keep his eyes on her face, because there was a lot to look at that she wouldn’t appreciate him looking at. In general, he didn’t really have much use for women as fantasies – they intimidated him, and he wasn’t sure if he could have handled all the… softness. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the form of a well-built dame. And, boy, was she well-built. Well-built and in a uniform, which was honestly a little confusing for him. He immediately imagined Howard in a uniform and had to quickly shut that idea down before things got even more awkward.

“You really have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” Peggy asked finally, her lips just barely curved in amusement.

“To be honest, I think this is the longest conversation I’ve ever had with one,” Steve confessed in reply. He turned his attention away from her and stared out the window as the neighborhood passed by, one of his old stomping grounds, three blocks away from the crappy single-room apartment he shared with his mother for two years. He noted every ally and street corner where he’d taken a beating, remembered the reason behind every single one. Twice was defending a lady, neither of whom actually wanted to be defended. One slapped him across the face for telling her beau that he should really watch his language around a lady. The other hauled her boyfriend off of Steve when he was sprawled out on the pavement, struggling to stand, but needing to breathe more than he needed to be on his feet. She helped him sit up, told him he was a silly, sweet thing, and walked away the guy who’d called her a bitch. Steve really didn’t understand women at all.

A set of double doors opened onto a lab sunken into the basement of the antiques shop where Steve’s mom sold the last of her grandmother’s china to pay rent. He stopped at the railing and took it all in, swallowing hard. He was grateful for Howard’s lessons and explanations, because the sight of the towering chamber that would change his life or end it – one of the two- made his chest seize up and his stomach flip. He couldn’t imagine what he would feel staring at it without understanding why it looked so much like a torturer’s lab table.

One of the white-coated lab techs noticed him standing there next to Peggy and stopped what he was doing to stare up at them. The tech next to him followed his gaze, and shortly the entire room stared at them in awful silence. It was like one of those nightmares where he showed up to muster without his pants on, and he reached down to feel the fabric of his uniform pants, just to make sure. He would have checked to make sure his fly was up too, but that would be a little obvious with all those eyes on him. He found Dr. Erskine there in the middle of the lab, and, almost out of view to the left, Howard. Steve hesitated to meet his eyes – if he found cool indifference there, he might throw up. But Howard’s eyes were warm with secrets, his lips twitched up into a faint smile. Far from indifferent, his expression seemed almost… proud. Proud and worried. It gave Steve courage and his chest loosened so he could breathe.

Peggy stepped away from the railing and moved down the stairs, forcing him to keep up. Howard met him there at the bottom and took him by both shoulders, looking him up and down under a professional pretense, but his thumbs traced gently over Steve’s collarbones. It was enough to shore up the nervous terror flipping around in his gut. Dr. Erskine touched Howard on the shoulder to get him to move along and drew Steve up to the platform.

“Are you ready?” the German doctor asked, giving Steve an intensely appraising look.

Steve summoned a smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

With a short nod, Dr. Erskine gestured to him. “Take off your clothes. Put this on.” He gestured to a pair of very loose shorts and turned to make sure everything was ready.

Steve handed his cover off to a waiting tech. He took slow breaths and looked straight ahead to keep his hands from shaking as he unknotted his tie and worked buttons open. He’d become accustomed to dressing down in front of people, but he was still grateful when the tech rolled a half-curtain over so he could change into the shorts. He had to hold them up with one hand to keep them from falling down once they were on.

The vinyl was cold on his back as he lay down, the lights so bright above him that he couldn’t see anything but Dr. Erskine, leaning over him. The older scientist put a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder and talked to him in low tones. Steve appreciated it, though he hardly paid attention to their conversation. He managed to stave off the panic until the cuffs lowered over his arms, and pads were set against his chest and stomach. He could feel the tips of the needles, dozens of them, against his skin. He took air in through his nose and remembered Howard’s voice explaining the process – the needles would puncture into his muscles, and the serum would flood in through thirty-seven ports before they retracted. After that, he would be enclosed in the lead-lined chamber, and his body flooded with vita rays. Whatever those were.

Steve was vaguely aware of saying again that he was ready, but he’d fallen into such a fugue that the needles still caught him by surprise. He sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t cry out. He was accustomed to needles, and there were so many of them that he couldn’t really focus on any one needle anyway. He heard a click, the sound of fluid rushing through tubing, and then a curious sensation of cold. It was not unlike having blood drawn, the strange chill in the fingers as if icy water were being poured into his veins instead of hot blood drawn out. He shivered but it wasn’t so bad, until suddenly it was. From the injection sites, heat exploded out. Steve sucked in a deep breath and bit down on his lip. His chest heaved as he struggled not to scream with the sudden fire burning through his veins. He could trace the path of the serum through the heat alone, felt it when it hit his heart as an explosion in his chest, and from there spread down over his stomach and quickly up his neck. Feverish sweat broke out on his face, his neck, beneath his arms, and between his legs. His thighs burned hotter than any mile run, his fingers and toes seemed fit to explode just to release the pressure. Steve felt the table moving and intellectually knew that, for better or worse, the Procedure would be over in minutes, but every passing second felt like hours.

The chamber smelled like iron and engine oil. It was too dark, and too close, and the heat from his body turned it into an oven, but he kept his mouth shut on the shriek that was trying to build in his throat. A knock on the outside sounded to him like the peal of a death bell, and his ears started to ring.

“Alright in there, Steve?”

Steve sucked in a breath, and then another. He was very good at keeping his voice steady when he was in pain, but he was impressed with himself as he answered flippantly, “I guess it’s too late to go to the bathroom?”

In fact, he was grateful that he hadn’t had a drink of water in more than eighteen hours, and no food in more than twelve, because he wasn’t sure that he would have been able to keep control of his body if there was anything waiting to come out.

Lights. Even through already-closed eyes, the lights seared his eyes. Every inch of his skin shrieked under the glare of them, and the serum rose in his veins to turn the touch of the vita rays into living flame. He fought to keep his mouth closed, but the rising tide of molten pain expanding outward through every vein and organ was too much. He screamed and thrashed uselessly in his bonds while his bones melted and his joints shattered. Hot sparks exploded down his spine and his skin tore like canvas stretched too tight, and then knitted back together with agonizing speed only to tear again.

“Steve! Steve!” He heard Dr. Erskine’s voice, and then a demand to shut it down.

“NO!” Steve screamed at the very top of his lungs, venting pain and terror with the word. “I can do this! I can do this!” He was not going to be the reason that Erskine’s serum and Howard’s engineering failed. He was not going to crawl through hell on his knees just to be pulled out of the pit feet from the exit sign. The intensity increased further yet, and he felt each individual bone crack, each organ die and resurrect in fire. His fingers _did_ explode then, bones pushing out of the skin, muscles growing longer and stronger, reforming digits around the spurs. He felt his shoulders nudge against the very top of the table, his head barely fitting into the space while his feet touched the footboards.

Just when he was sure he wouldn’t last another moment, everything went very still. The lights died, leaving him again in the close darkness that was too hot, and smelled of iron, engine oil, sickly copper, and sweat. He took an experimental breath. The air stung against the abrasions in his throat, but by the time he’d taken the next breath, those had healed. The pain didn’t fade, but he felt his skin closing over the tears, felt the cracks in his bones knitting together. Each one stood out like a flashing light, somehow no less intense individually for being so numerous. Vents opened in the chamber, flooding his tiny universe with cold air. A soft spray of frigid water sluiced down his body to clear away the gore. He knew that the water was actually supposed to be at body temperature, but _he_ was obviously not at body temperature, because it felt like glacial melt.

The water drained, and he heard the hydraulic hiss of the lid releasing. There was nothing but silence beyond as it drew away, leaving him exposed to the air, wet, and exhausted. Noise erupted all at once, cheers and shouts. Steve opened his eyes to see Howard and Dr. Erskine rushing towards him. They seemed suddenly much smaller than they should, and he had a disoriented moment of not knowing where his limbs were or how to get them to cooperate.

Once he remembered, he tried to step out of the chamber. His legs gave away almost immediately and he collapsed hard into Erskine and Howard. Their hands felt like ice on his stomach, his skin screamed at the touch, and his muscles all contracted at once. Despite that, he leaned into Howard and soaked in the scent of his tobacco, wishing only that they were alone and he could beg for comfort. Peggy approached through the crowd with a white shirt in hand.

“How do you feel?” she asked with her eyes glued to his chest.

There was a joke in there somewhere, but he didn’t have the brain power to divert to wit just then, so he said, “Taller.”

~*~

When the senator asked him if he wanted to fight for his country on the most important battlefield of the war, Steve would have never thought that it would lead to him living a life surrounded by cameras and dancing girls. Bucky would have soaked it all up. But Bucky was somewhere in France, decidedly not surrounded by cameras and dancing girls. Howard was… who knew where Howard laid his head at night. Colonel Phillips dragged Howard and Peggy away the night of the Procedure, not that Steve would have been able to go to him anyways. He was kept in the infirmary under constant watch for a week after the Procedure, and his skin was so sensitive that he could barely stand to be touched at all those first few days. The whole world seemed like it should have been different after Steve stepped out of the chamber more than a foot taller and better than twice as heavy. After Dr. Erskine died in the arms of his achievement. After Steve put his burning body to the test and proved, more conclusively than any lab test, that Dr. Erskine’s serum was a success. The world, apparently, didn’t agree.

Steve stared at himself in the dressing room mirror and wanted to break something. He knew the figures and statistics. War bond sales increased by 10% in every state he visited, and the money was desperately needed. He understood that those bonds meant soldiers like Bucky got the food and ammunition they needed to survive another day. He knew that intellectually, but staring at his own reflection with a backdrop of costumes, surrounded by makeup and flowers, felt like a betrayal. Dr. Erskine did not flee from his home and ultimately give his life to create a starlet who kissed babies and led fake charges on movie sets.

A knock sounded and he sat back in the chair, which felt entirely too small, looking away from his own eyes. “Come in.”

Howard’s smile was like a sunrise. Steve gaped at him for several long seconds as he slipped into the room with a bouquet of daisies in hand.

“Not even a hello?” Howard prompted.

Steve surged out of the chair and gathered Howard up in a tight embrace. He found Howard’s mouth with his, kissing him with frantic desperation. He was very aware of the dancing girls just in the next room, their clearly visible voices emphasizing how thin the walls were. He broke away when Howard gasped into his mouth in something other than pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” Steve rushed, quickly releasing him. The daisies were askew, looking affronted at the rough treatment, and Howard dismissed the grimace of pain with a smile.

“Stronger than you think you are,” he said, straightening and handing the flowers over.

Steve took them, gingerly righting the twisted stems and trying to put them back into order. He’d been aflame with embarrassment the first time someone handed him flowers like he was a girl, but he’d gotten used to it over the five months of touring. The simple daisies took pride of place on top of his dressing table and he turned back to Howard, uncertain of how to talk to him any longer.

“I keep an office in San Francisco,” Howard explained without being asked. “I saw an advert for your show and thought I would swing by. How does it feel to sock Hitler in the jaw?”

Collapsing back into the chair, Steve ran a hand over his mouth. His lips twitched up into a bitter smile. “Would probably feel better if his name wasn’t Charlie and he weren’t such a stand up guy.”

Howard was silent for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, he knelt between Steve’s knees.

“Don’t – you’re going to get your suit all-“

Howard’s hands on his face stopped the words in his throat. He stretched up and kissed Steve with tender passion, tongue tracing over his lips and delving past his teeth to explore like it was uncharted territory. It was, of course, because his jaw was broader, his teeth all perfectly straight and pearly white, his tongue pink and perfect. He knew all of that, because he’d been told. But nothing drove home the changes like Howard’s once-familiar tongue feeling so unfamiliar in his mouth.

“I’m only here for the night,” Howard told him quietly. “Meet me tonight. Please?”

Steve brought his hands up, careful on Howard’s neck. He set their foreheads together. “I’ve missed you so goddamn much.”

Howard grinned at him, that roguish tilted grin, and pressed a card into his hand. “Don’t blaspheme,” he said cheekily, and stood just in time to not be in a compromising position when Charlie burst through the door. Steve knew he couldn’t hide the blush, but Howard handled the intrusion with practiced grace.

“If it isn’t old Hitler himself,” Howard greeted. He held a hand out and they shook firmly. “How’ve you been, Charlie?”

“Mr. Stark, I didn’t realize you were here!”

Of course, for no reason other than the universe liked making Steve gape, Howard and Charlie knew each other. Howard made a gesture back to Steve.

“Just stepping in to see my buddy from Camp Lehigh. I knew him before he was Captain America, you know.” He winked and neither of them mentioned that Howard _made him_ Captain America. “Great show, fellas. I might just go out and buy a bond or two myself.”

Charlie and Howard shook hands again and then Howard turned and offered his hand to Steve. It was all Steve could do not to pull him down into another crushing embrace. Instead, he carefully shook his head, mindful of the strength he wasn’t always able to control, and let him go. The card was still tucked into his palm and he held it tightly.

“How do you two know each other?” Steve asked after Howard left. He couldn’t help the bite of jealousy in his gut, wondering if Howard charmed Charlie one evening after a performance and asked, _Meet me tonight. Please?_

“Oh, he hired my troupe one year for a benefit. We put on a Christmas Pageant. I don’t think I talked to him more than once. I’m surprised he remembered me.” Charlie stared at the door in bemusement, his eyes a little star-struck. For a man in show business, it was strange to see him dazzled by a celebrity. Steve’s jealousy subsided, leaving a bad taste in the back of his throat. He didn’t really have a claim on Howard except a single night of passion on a lonely military base where they exchanged no promises. He had no right to be jealous over anyone Howard might see.

“Hey! Some of the ladies and I are going to hit the clubs and go dancing. Want to come along?” Charlie asked brightly. Any time they were in a big city, Charlie and the girls went out, and they always invited him along, and he always declined. But Charlie still asked. Steve smiled, holding tighter to the small piece of cardstock.

“Not tonight, Charlie, but thanks. You guys have fun.”

“I’m going to get you to come along one of these days,” Charlie said, just like always. He reached out and chuffed Steve on the shoulder. “Great show.”

“You too.”

~*~

Steve still wasn’t used to cabs. He and the rest of the USO performers travelled from city to city by bus, and they were usually within walking distance of the venue, and the restaurants and pubs that took the place of grocery stores and kitchens. Before he joined the army, he’d taken maybe half a dozen cab rides in his life. It felt weird to sit in the back seat with only the driver up front. Usually he covered up the weirdness by talking (once he’d sat in the front seat, but the driver had been so obviously put off by this that he hadn’t tried it since), but that night he could only stare at the calling card curled into the shape of his palm. Howard’s handwriting was precise and slanted to the right, as measured as if he’d written it with a ruler on hand.

“Here we are, buddy.” They pulled up in front of a private home, blocked from view by a well-tended wall of hedges and a wrought iron fence. Steve paid the cabbie enough that the amount would have normally made him choke, but it wasn’t like he had much else to do with his wages. The cab pulled away as soon as the door closed and Steve took a steadying breath before marching right up to the gate. He found it slightly ajar and frowned, making a mental note to chastise Howard for being so cavalier with his own safety, but then he realized that Howard most likely left it open so Steve could slip in without having to stand outside pushing the bell.

Steve closed and latched the gate firmly behind him and took a moment to stare up at the house. In the darkness, it was a towering shadow of Victorian splendor, three stories high with a pitched roof, and all the makings of the ‘painted ladies’ that were popular in San Francisco. Though the house itself was deep burgundy with white trim rather than some of the garish lemon drop yellow and frosting pink that he’d seen on the trip in. Steve finally stepped away from the gate and made the short trip up the walk. The door was locked, but Howard opened it only a few seconds after he rang the bell.

Steve wasn’t wearing a tie for Howard to pull on, so he just wrapped his strong hands in Steve’s coat and yanked him inside. Steve stumbled into the entryway, and might have pitched over, but Howard reversed their momentum and used Steve’s back to slam the door shut. Their hands tangled as they tore at one another’s clothing, discarding pieces of it in a flurry around the foyer. Steve had barely the presence of mind to reach back and lock the door before he got his hands around Howard’s ass and lifted him clear off the floor. Howard made a startled noise, but he didn’t complain, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and his arms around Steve’s neck.

“Where am I going?” Steve asked breathlessly, breaking away from Howard’s mouth just long enough to ask. Distracted, Howard set his lips to Steve’s neck and bit down, drawing a low moan out of him. “I will lay you on the hall carpet if you don’t direct me to a bed,” Steve warned. His legs were trembling, not under the strain of Howard’s weight, but with excitement and need.

“Umm… floor sounds good,” Howard managed after a moment, returning his lips to Steve’s and burying his hands in Steve’s hair.

The floor _was_ sounding pretty good, but Steve spied a chaise lounge through an open door that looked even better. He stumbled toward it, thanking his serum-enhanced spatial awareness for keeping them from running into anything painful or fragile. He lay Howard down on the chaise and fumbled for his belt.

“Missed you,” Howard told him breathlessly. “Missed you like air.”

Steve whimpered at the naked need in his voice, and tore Howard’s pants down with a single smooth motion. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath and that pulled another pathetic sound out of Steve. He tried to throw the pants, but Howard caught onto one leg and pulled.

“Lubricant in the pocket,” he explained, yanking on the pants until Steve let them go. Howard pulled out a tube of KY Jelly, already opened with the end flattened. He performed a pretty impressive maneuver to swap their positions without falling off the couch and set the tube aside so he could work Steve out of his pants, trailing kisses and nips down his abs and across his hips.

“You lost your curve,” Howard said once he had Steve stripped down and laid out naked on the daybed. He ran a finger up the sensitive ridge of Steve’s hardness, provoking a deep groan.

“And got bigger,” Steve added. He looked up to see Howard studying him with the same intensity he applied to his engineering projects.

“Not much,” Howard murmured. He looked up and gave Steve a wicked, filthy grin, and the leaned down and sucked the head of Steve’s cock into his hot mouth.

Steve’s breath came out a choked shout, his hands immediately finding the back of Howard’s head. He thrust helplessly upward until Howard put both hands on his hips and held him down. “Sorry,” he apologized. Howard shook his head dismissively, and the motion felt amazing. Steve had a heady thought to start asking yes and no questions, but the idea was driven out of his mind by the picture of Howard’s lips stretched around him.

When Howard finally released him, he wasn’t sure if it was a mercy or torture. Steve lay back against the lounge and panted for breath, feeling hot and stretched too tight, trembling on the edge of a meltdown.

“Any of your dancing girls do you like that?” Howard asked, grinning, as he crawled up Steve’s body, straddling his hips and leaning forward to share the taste of Steve’s cock with him.

“Are you jealous, Howard?” Steve asked when they separated, unable to fathom the concept.

“I don’t deny that I am a jealous man.” Howard trailed kisses down Steve’s neck, leaving marks that healed before they had a chance to form properly.

Steve caught Howard by his chin and dragged him up so their eyes were level. “There hasn’t been anyone but you.” He didn’t think it would be so fascinating to watch Howard blush, but he only got to see it for a moment before Howard reclaimed his mouth in a fierce kiss, tongue conquering every corner of Steve’s mouth, claiming it, and Steve didn’t mind giving up the territory.

Howard ground down against him and Steve was surprised to feel a slick wetness on his cock where it rubbed against Howard’s ass. Before he could even put that into a question, Howard retrieved the KY, and squeezed a generous portion into his palm. He put his mouth back to Steve’s and kissed him languidly while he drew a slick hand up and down Steve’s aching length. Wiping his hand carelessly on the chaise, Howard rose up on his knees and reached back to lift Steve’s erection. Steve caught his hips and held him firmly up when he tried to sink back.

“You’ll hurt yourself-”

“I had more than hour to wait for you,” Howard interrupted, smirking. His eyes smoldered down at Steve, the dim light and the angle making him look villainous for a moment. “I put it to good use.”

The air left Steve’s lungs in a whoosh and his eyes widened. “You… you did t-that… to yourself?”

“Do you mind?” Howard asked, head tipped curiously, but devilish smile still firmly in place.

“Only that you didn’t let me watch,” Steve blurted out. Howard laughed and nudged Steve’s hands away. He steadied Steve with one hand and slowly impaled himself, eyes rolling back, brows drawing down, breath coming in sharp little pants. Steve’s head dropped to the lounge and his mouth opened in a soundless moan while he watched himself slowly disappear into the clenching heat of Howard’s body.

“Oh… oh, yes, I missed that.” Howard seated himself and rocked his hips slowly forward and back. His thighs trembled against Steve’s sides, and the muscles in his arms and chest jumped and twitched. Steve set his hands on Howard’s ribs and drew them in soothing circles up and down, waiting for Howard to grow accustomed to him, but unable to help himself from rocking in time to Howard’s swaying. Howard braced his hands on Steve’s arms and rose slowly upward. He sank down just as he reached the point where Steve thought he would slip out. Hazy with pleasure, Howard’s eyes opened to slits and stared down at Steve while he continued his slow slide. It wasn’t like their first time, rushing towards the finish line before someone discovered them. It took on a rhythm like breathing, deeply in and out, the steady crash and hiss of waves on sand.

“You’re still perfect,” Howard told him, and that unlocked a deep knot buried somewhere in Steve’s chest. He’d been called ‘perfect’ a lot since the serum, but every time someone said it, he just remembered Howard’s eyes on him when he was still small. Until that very moment, he didn’t realize he’d been worried that Howard would no longer find him attractive with as different as he’d become.

“You still feel amazing,” Steve responded breathlessly, and Howard laughed. He tipped his head back and rolled his hips, and laughed for the joy of it. Steve smiled too, held him firmly by the hips and sat up so he was straddling the chaise with Howard in his lap. Howard didn’t complain to the change in position, just wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders once more and kissed him while they moved together. Continuing the motion, Steve reversed their positions. He laid Howard gently on his back and brought his knees up to kneel on the lounge, Howard’s hips still nestled firmly against his.

“I may have lost my curve,” Steve said, and that was the only thing about his new body that disappointed him, “But I think I can…” He wrapped one arm around Howard’s hips and pulled him up to the right angle, gave a shallow thrust and-

“ _Yes_ , fuck, yes, there!”

Steve grinned, thanked the serum for the knowledge that he could hold this position all night if he needed to, and slid again past that place. Howard writhed against him, shoving his hips down to meet every thrust, clutching hard at Steve’s shoulders and making the most wonderful sounds. Steve licked up Howard’s neck and squeezed him as tightly as he dared, thrusting hard and fast into him. Howard’s sudden orgasm took them both by surprise. His spine curved up into in a perfect arch and heat exploded between them while Howard cursed a blue streak and dug his nails into Steve’s back. Steve held him securely and stilled, letting Howard ride through the spiral of orgasm.

“I can’t- you just… didn’t even touch. God, Steve!” Howard relaxed by degrees, panting for air, wide eyed, and glistening with sweat. “Your grasp of angles and trajectory is truly stunning,” he said when he finally caught enough air to get his brain working again.

Steve chuckled against Howard’s throat and began moving again, sliding in and out of the welcoming warmth of Howard’s body, driven on by Howard’s voice, vibrating against his ear and sending shivers chasing over his skin. He’d never heard so many dirty, anatomically unlikely things in his life. He would have blushed, except his whole body was already flushed with the wonder of it, the reality of Howard’s warmth and the absurdity of his imagination. He stopped himself from biting into Howard’s shoulder as he came only with the understanding that he would probably do serious damage if he did.

Lowering himself to Howard’s chest, Steve alternated between sucking in air warmed by their exertions, and mouthing kisses across Howard’s skin. “Amazing,” he said again.

They lay in a sweaty tangle for what felt like hours. Steve was faintly aware of the chill in the air, but he didn’t get cold anymore, not after the serum. Howard didn’t notice the chill at all, covered as he was by Steve’s body, which ran a consistent 99.3 degrees when he wasn’t all warm and loose from a bout of fantastic sex. He felt feverish with the afterglow, but didn’t mind if it kept Howard too warm to consider moving.

“Well, dinner is cold by now,” Howard commented finally. Steve had rolled onto his side and pillowed his head against Howard’s shoulder while they ran lazy hands over each other. He twisted to look up at Howard.

“Dinner?”

“Mmm…. I thought to seduce you with a nice candlelit dinner and a bottle of wine, some music, the works.”

Steve propped himself up on his elbow, amused and pleased in equal measures that Howard thought he needed to be seduced. “You were going to sit through a candlelit dinner without wearing any underpants, and…” Steve’s hand drifted down Howard’s stomach, making the muscles jump, and gently fingered his stretched opening. “And ready for me the whole time?”

He quirked an eyebrow at Howard, but the thought made a twitch of arousal tighten in his gut. Howard pushed down minutely against Steve’s exploring finger. “Sounded more practical before I actually saw you on my porch,” he admitted.

“Well,” Steve said finally, withdrawing his finger before he got himself too excited while Howard was still basking in the afterglow. “Let’s get cleaned up and see about that cold candlelit supper. I might even still let you seduce me.”

~*~

“You have the face of an angel and the refractory period of a demon,” Howard told him much later as they collapsed into bed. “Do you even have one at all?” he demanded, but he was grinning like a lunatic.

Steve blushed faintly. “Not really.” He squirmed down in the covers until he was comfortable and pulled Howard onto his chest. He liked the weight of him there, his solid warmth and the motion of his breath. Steve felt comfortably stretched, warm and relaxed, and hated the idea of having to get up with such a vengeance that he decided he would pretend he didn’t have to.

“Did I do alright by you?” Howard asked after several minutes of nothing but the rhythm of their breath to break the silence. “For your first time?”

“Which one?” Steve mumbled. “I’ve had a lot of firsts with you.”

“How many?” Howard demanded with his typical, insatiable curiosity. Steve was fascinated to find that under the Devil May Care attitude, Howard had a surprising streak of vulnerability, and a perhaps not-so-surprising river of possessiveness.

“All but one,” Steve answered, intentionally cryptic, because he found he liked the calculating heat in Howard’s eyes while he scrolled through the possibilities in his mind to think of which ‘first’ might not have been his to claim. He knew that he was the first one to breech Steve’s body, but Steve had never explicitly said he was a virgin in every other aspect.

Laughing softly, Steve finally took pity on him. “My first kiss was when I was thirteen. All the rest are yours.”

“Who was it?”

Steve made an incredulous noise. “I was thirteen, Howard! You can’t possibly be jealous of that.”

“Just curious,” Howard protested, but he sounded like he was lying.

“A friend. There wasn’t anything…” Steve struggled to explain. “It wasn’t anything like this.” He curled his neck and set his mouth to Howard’s, sucking softly on his lower lip and sliding their tongues together before he relaxed back against the pillows. “It was just his lips on mine, for half a second. Because we were best friends and we shared everything, and it made sense that we should share that too.”

Howard relaxed back to Steve’s chest after a moment of consideration. As if he were granting a presidential pardon, he said, “I will give James Barnes a pass on that then.”

Steve froze, took Howard by the chin and pried his face up so their eyes met. “How do you know about him? I’ve never talked about him to you, or Erskine, or anyone at Lehigh.”

“You think we didn’t vet you from here to Kingdom Come?” Howard asked, not in the least concerned about Steve’s cold tone, not for a moment afraid of the strength in Steve’s hands. “Erskine wanted you from the second he saw you in that recruitment station. We spent the month from then to your reporting time digging up every single thing about your life right down to your dental records and your favorite food.”

Steve blinked at him, dumbstruck. He should have known that. There was no way they would just pick a scrawny kid from Brooklyn out of the lineup for no reason other than he was smart enough to take down a flag without climbing the poll, and willing to jump on a grenade if it meant saving lives. Steve released his chin and Howard moved so he was laid out fully across Steve’s body, knees draped to either side of Steve’s thighs, their soft cocks nestled comfortably together, their breaths synching up instinctively.

“I was fascinated by you before I even set eyes on you the first time,” Howard confessed. “Everything I learned about you just made me want to know you. And when you didn’t go running for the hills the first time I touched you…” Howard shivered, gently kissed Steve’s chest, and turned his head to rest his ear right over Steve’s heart. “Erskine and I argued for you over every other candidate. He, because he’d met you and knew what you were made of. Me? Because I saw a man who had survived more pain already than most will know in their entire lives, and could still create art, and stood up to face down bullies in defense of people much bigger than him. You intrigued me and I wanted to see if you were really that amazing. Lo and behold, you are even more amazing than the file suggested.”

Steve wondered how Howard could knock the breath out of him on such a regular basis. “I’m just a normal guy,” he said shakily.

“Sorry, pal, but you never were normal, and you sure don’t get to claim normal now.” Howard rolled back into the crook of Steve’s arm and nuzzled into his side. “Stay with me tonight. Go back in the morning.”

“They’d want to know where I was all night,” Steve protested.

“Just smile and say nothing. They’ll assume you spent the night having wild, passionate sex.”

Howard’s smug expression startled a laugh out of Steve. “I _did_ spend the night having wild, passionate sex.”

“So? You don’t have to tell them who you were with. Being the gentleman that you are, I bet you wouldn’t tell even if I were a perfectly acceptable member of the fairer sex.”

And that solved everything. Steve dragged Howard closer and reached over to turn off the lamp.

~*~

“Isn’t this a pleasant sight?”

Steve woke slowly. Since the serum, he didn’t need much sleep. He could go days without it and function fine, or be at a hundred percent for days on only a few hours. But when he did go to sleep he slept for as long as he could, as if his body was storing up on it. He opened his eyes to find Howard sitting next to him, propped up on the headboard, looking tussled and lazy in the early morning light.

Steve stretched and turned over to bury his face against Howard’s hip. “What’s the time?” he mumbled.

“Not yet six. I didn’t know what time you needed to be off.”

“I should be back at the hotel by nine,” Steve said, “We’re leaving for Sacramento at ten thirty. No one will miss me until eight.”

Howard stroked his hair and back, fingertips pleasantly cool against Steve’s sleep warmed skin.

“This is nice.” Steve twisted to look up at Howard. His hair was a mess and it made him look younger, but no less charming. “Going to sleep in the same bed… waking up together. Like a couple.”

Howard was quiet for a moment and Steve felt a pang of self-doubt. Two nights of passion, Howard’s jealousy notwithstanding, did not make them an item. He had specifically not asked Howard if he’d seen anyone in the five months that they were apart, sure that he wouldn’t like the answer and not sure how would react to it. Not well, certainly.

“It could be like this,” Howard said very softly, as if something would break if he spoke too loud.

“Not in this world.” It made him simultaneously warm to hear that Howard wanted it and cold with the realization that it would never happen. He and Howard could never go out in public with their arms linked, go dancing, share a quick kiss as one or the other left the room, stand next to each other and greet guests at a home they shared. It was almost cruel to even imagine that life, knowing that they could never have it.

“We could,” Howard insisted. He flipped around and moved down the bed so they were face to face. “When the war is over, you marry Peggy-”

“Why would I marry Peggy?” Steve interrupted, heart sinking at the mere thought of putting that lie on any woman, let alone a woman like Peggy, who was fierce and deserved a man who would love her wholeheartedly. “Besides, she kind of scares me.”

“She scares everyone. But just listen. You would marry Peggy, because Peggy has a dame.”

Steve gaped, unable to process the words and make them fit into a shape he could recognize. He made a noise of confusion and Howard kissed him quickly.

“Peggy’s has a girl named Maria. She’s a sweet thing, pretty, young, somehow makes Peggy melt into a little puddle – scariest thing I’ve ever seen. But look, I marry Maria. You marry Peggy. Once the war is over, I buy an estate out in the middle of the country and hire you as my head of security. And, since you would be responsible for the guarding of my _very demanding_ body, you would obviously have to live on site. And since I’m such a generous employer, of course I wouldn’t ask you to live apart from your wife.”

“That’s…” Wonderful, awe inspiring, perfect – “ _Insane_. Do you know what would happen to us, to Peggy and Maria, if anyone found out?”

“Why would anyone find out? I’m a millionaire eccentric with more money than sense, and it would make absolutely perfect sense to a millionaire eccentric to have my head of security living in my home, with a bedroom that connects to mine. Just in case someone tried to murder me in my sleep, of course I would want you close. No one would have to know that Maria slept in your bed and you slept in mine. It would work.”

Steve gaped at him. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Approximately five months. I’ve already got a property in mind.”

Stunned into impotent silence, Steve could only stare at this beautiful, crazy man who was willing to spend a lifetime with him, had come up with a solution when Steve had seen only defeat. He remembered Howard once saying that Steve was a man with enough imagination to realize that nothing was impossible. Could he- could they? Was it possible to keep something that big under wraps for a lifetime? What was the alternative? Furtive meetings in hotel rooms with elaborate cover stories, always looking over their shoulders for the keen eyed valet who would see them together and out them to the papers?

The longer Steve remained quiet, the more Howard’s expression fell from manic excitement, to uncertainty, to rejection. Steve caught him just as he turned away and pulled him into a long kiss, trying to convey his delight and concerns with the touch. His shaking body did a better job of it than anything he could have said.

“Say, yes. Say you’ll marry me,” Howard babbled into his mouth. “By proxy,” he added with a nervous laugh.

“I’d be quite a heel if I refused to make an honest man out of you,” Steve answered, nearly sobbing in a combination of nerves and joy. “By proxy.”

~*~

More than a year, a dozen destroyed Hydra laboratories, and thousands of miles separated him from that comfortable bed in San Francisco and all its whispers of a possible future. As Steve stared at the ice rushing up to meet him, that was the promise he remembered, and his biggest regret. In all their stolen hours, far too few, Steve never once said, _I love you_.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There will most likely be a third installment to this, because this is kind of a horrible place to leave it.


End file.
